The Night's Lullaby
by MidnightIsCalling
Summary: Katniss and Peeta take a moment on the roof before the Quarter Quell. Catching Fire oneshot.


I was laying in bed last night (don't be getting any ideas) and a wave of emotions (EMOTIONS!) came at me, and the end result is this (and other) one-shot(s). I'm guessing this one-shot will take place during Catching Fire when they are on the roof and such, but let your imagination run, kids. (:

Music inspiration from Eric Whitacre's "The Seal Lullaby" (both choral and band versions... I highly encourage you guys to listen to at least one version, it's absolutely gorgeous). So yeah. Enjoy, guys!  
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Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Deal?

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I remember this place, where she and I talked before the Games. The night sky hanging above us; below us a party of shallow Capitol people celebrating our love for each other, celebrating and awaiting the slaughter of other tributes. Never do they have to experience themselves or their child (or relative for that matter) being taken away and thrown into an arena to the death. In only that respect do I envy them.

The garden up here has colorful, moist flowers; grass that is a soft as a blanket, the color that is Katniss's favorite. Wind chimes blow gently in the breeze atop the roof, making a beautiful sounds I've never heard before, but love and cherish. There is a gentle breeze here in the night. The streets below us are noisy, but the soothing wind and chimes almost block out the noise. The moon and the glittering stars above us add to the joy that I am feeling right now. This night is exquisitly beautiful.

I find a place to sit down against a drooping tree, what Katniss calls a willow, I believe, my fingers intertwined with Katniss's as she sits beside me, and then lays her head down on my lap. She seems to be thinking about something, absent-mindedly looking at the stars and moon above us. It's almost like she wants to take the moon and stars with her forever, to never lose sight of it.

At home, I'd be in the hot bakery, going outside feeding the pigs and having to hurriedly rush inside to help close up shop and eat stale or burnt bread. I would tolerate my mother's beatings for burning the bread, the teasing from my brothers, the look from my father that says "help". I think of them, how my father, perhaps, is one of them. How they don't miss me, how Katniss, and maybe Portia, my stylists, and Haymitch are the only ones I care about.

I brushed my hand against her cheek, soft from her stylist's touches. Her half-open grey eyes fade slowly and then return with the ache of needing sleep. A shy smile emerges from her lips. I remember that gentle smile from the cave when I healed Katniss. But this seemed more peaceful, more genuine. I couldn't help but lean down and brush my lips on hers, the warmth and touch from her reassuring me that living isn't a total mistake.

I sigh as I let my fingers run through her black hair that falls in lush waves down her head and shoulders, another touch by her stylists. Her hair is incredibly soft and silky. As soft as the pillow in my room here in the Training Center. She begins to whisper the lullaby from our district, and I listen carefully. It's beautiful. I never heard this lullaby as a child, or maybe I was too young to remember. I think it's because my mother never liked me. She didn't care if I didn't sleep well, or if I had nightmares. As long as I was quiet and did my work during the day. I continue to listen to her, but catch little pieces of it, as she is quietly lulling off to sleep.

_Lay down your head, and close your eyes,_  
_And when they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, and here's it warm..._

_...here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away,_  
_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray..._

___...here is the place where I love you._

Katniss senses my mental musings and reaches up from her half-sleeping, half-dozing state, brushing her hand against my forehead before lifting herself up, kissing me on the lips softly before she cuddles up into my chest, eyes closed, breathing steady. I can tell that the night calms her just as much as it calms me. It's one reason why I like to sleep with the window open.

We might be dead tomorrow. Katniss might be dead. I might be dead. Dead in less than twenty-four hours; but I can't worry about that right now.

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I'm not sure how well I did on this (at times it seemed cliche and non-flowy... has no real plot), so if anyone could spare a review, that would be lovely. I hope you guys enjoyed!


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